Over the past 60 years, the number of freshman matriculating at Princeton each year has grown from about 1,000 to over 1,300. Meanwhile, the proportion of applicants accepted has shrunk from about one in five to fewer than one in ten, implying that the number of applicants rejected each year has grown from about 4,000 to at least 11,700 – an average of at least about 8,000 a year. If applicants admitted outnumber students matriculating by 20%, then the average number of applicants rejected each year grows to at least 9,600. Throw in transfer students rejected, and an average of at least 10,000 undergraduate rejections a year seems a reasonable guesstimate. Assuming that all applicants rejected by Princeton survive for 60 years and then drop dead yields a guesstimate of at least 600,000 living survivors of rejection by Princeton’s undergraduate college.

That’s a lot of folks. A well-attended reunion of Princeton rejection survivors would take a while to march down Prospect Street.

But does Princeton host an annual reunion for them? No. It doesn’t even send out “We’re sorry!” notes on the anniversaries of their rejections.

They deserve better. So to all the folks who didn’t get in, Princetonians for Trump offer this consolation:

You didn’t need to come to Princeton; Princeton came to you.

With every passing year for decades, the whole United States has grown more like Princeton: more socially stratified, more unequal in its distribution of wealth and income, more indifferent to working people, more infused by an ethos of insulating the rich from problems instead of trying to solve them.

And that has given us Donald.

So every night, when we thank God for Donald, Princetonians for Trump say a special blessing for all the preppies, without whose incessant enrichment relative to the rest of us by free trade and endless immigration of cheap labor we might still be suffering from the twin delusions that those who rule us give a fig for democracy or equality, and that there’s some reason why we should, too.

The hidden joy of rejection by Princeton is that there is no escape from prepdom; that with prepdom comes reality; and that with reality comes Donald.

To share our joy in this with you, we’re updated Billy Joel’s “Vienna” (1977) on the next page of this site.

Over six hundred thousand strong and still marching on …